


Report

by zillah975



Series: An Unkindness of Ravens [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2494757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah975/pseuds/zillah975





	Report

Seyahat sits close to warmth of the crackling fire that burns in the big fireplace of common room at the Scarlet Raven, paper and ink in front of her. It’s late, quiet in the inn. A lone traveler is dozing in his chair on the far side of the table, and for more than an hour there’s been no sound from outside except the soft fall of the rain. Ash, her charcoal-colored hawk owl, is perched on the back of the chair beside her, the firelight reflected in his luminous eyes.

She dips her quill in the ink and continues.

 

_I reached the monastery in the early evening. As expected, it is guarded and inhabited by followers of the Scarlet Crusade, but they were easy to slip past. When I entered the halls, I found what appeared to be a hooded member of the Crusade guarding the back of the hall, but given the whiff of undeath that was on her, I suspected she was not as she seemed. I confronted her and she informed me that the target also had in his possession a complete book of the history and membership of the Scarlet Crusade, which she requested I retrieve for her to aid her in wiping them out. As the pay was reasonable, I agreed. (Let it be noted that I included said payment in my deposit to the requested bank account. She also requested I kill a certain number of Scarlet Crusaders within the halls; again I agreed, and included that payment in the deposit as well.)_

_The halls are patrolled by dog handlers with hounds that appear to be of the mastiff breed, which have been well-trained to detect intruders, as I learned during my initial reconnaissance. They must be close by to note one skilled in concealment, however, which I presume is how the hooded figure maintains her disguise._

_Having no way to achieve my objective without getting close enough to the hounds to be detected, I looked for other alternatives and learned that although the hounds are well-trained, they are also ill-treated, under-fed, and hold no love for their masters. As such, they respond very well to being fed._

Seya closes her eyes briefly as the memory of that horrific — but well-timed — discovery washes over her. She had only meant to distract the hounds so she could dispatch their master, but when the bucket of bloody meat hit the floor and slopped onto him, the smell drove the hounds into a frenzy. The man’s terrified and anguished cries still echo in her ears.

It hadn’t stopped her from doing the same to the other handlers. If they’d treated their animals better, they wouldn’t have met such a gruesome end.

_Once the hounds and their handlers were dealt with, I moved on to the archery training field that lay between myself and my objective. I waited for some time for the trainees to finish and depart, but they appear to train in shifts; it became clear that waiting for the field to be deserted would be in vain._

_The trainees were keen-eyed men and proved impossible for me to slip past, but the heavy targets they were using provided sufficient cover for me to reach them and defeat them. They seem untrained in hand-to-hand brawling, and though I sustained some injuries, they were not too severe for the healing potions and bandages I had with me._

_Beyond the archery training field I found the man who is — or was — in charge of the hounds, and the one undoubtedly responsible for their ill treatment and under-fed condition. He was a skilled fighter and I took some lumps, but as with the other handlers, the smell of blood sent his hounds into a frenzy. They tore him apart, and the last I saw of them they were doing the same with the guards to the north._

It had been another horrific scene, the screams of men and the ravening sounds of the dogs ripping into them, but what bothers Seya even now is why the dogs didn’t attack her once their master was in their jaws. It was as if they were focused only on taking revenge on the men who had abused them. “Dogs don’t behave that way,” she murmurs to herself, gazing into the fire. “Do they?”

The traveler across from her opens his eyes, squinting in the warm light. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

She frowns. “Have you ever known an animal to want revenge?”

"An animal?" The traveler shifts in his chair nods. "Aye, more than one."

"Really?" Seya sits forward. "Just a regular animal, thinking it out?"

"Oh yeah." He nods and sits up. "Had a neighbor with a nanny goat, once. Oliver Jurden was his name — the man, not the goat." He shakes his head and chuckles. "He hated that goat, used to beat it over nothing at all, or just over a bad mood."

She scowls. Humans can find humor in the most grotesque things. “Why didn’t he sell it?”

The traveler shrugs. “Cussedness? Anyway, one day the Ollie’s out in the field where that goat is, and he steps in a gopher hole, breaks his ankle, right? Ollie, not the goat.”

Seya nods. “Did the goat have a name?”

"All I ever heard Ollie call it was ‘that damned goat,’" the man replies with a shrug. "Anyway, so I’m out in my field, and I hear Ollie calling for help, right? So I start over that way — it’s a long way, but I can see him, and then I see the goat, too." The traveler reaches into his coat and pulls out a pipe as he speaks. "The goat’s standing there looking at him, and Ollie’s cussing at the goat like it’s the goat’s fault he stepped in the gopher hole. And then just as calm as you please, the goat rears up and comes down right on top of Ollie, both front hooves. And you know those things are sharp."

The smell of pipe smoke wafts over her, and Seya reaches into her pocket for her own, listening. Beside her, Ash fluffs his wings and begins to groom.

"So Ollie lets out this horrible yell, and then the goat does it again, and again, just trampling him while he’s trying to push her off and get his foot out of that hole. I take off running, right? Because Ollie’s an ill-tempered old bastard, but still. But by the time I can get there, Ollie’s a bloody mess o’dead and the goat’s just standing there cropping grass."

Seya lights the pipe and puffs a few times, the sweet, acrid smoke filling her nostrils. “What happened to the goat?”

The traveler shrugs. “Well, the goat never did me any harm. Bought it off Ollie’s widow for a fair price and she’s still giving milk.” He reaches into his pack and pulls out a paper-wrapped parcel. “Wife makes cheese out of it. Try some, s’good.”

Seya offers him her flask in return, and he grins and raises it to her before drinking.

"I’m Davey, by the way. Davey Davidson of Westfall, at your service."

"Seya," she answers, leaving it at that. "Of Auberdine. Late of Duskwood."

"What’cha working on there so diligently, Seya late of Duskwood?"

"Just a letter to my grandmother," she answers. "She worries if she doesn’t hear from me."

"Family’s important," Davey says. "Most important thing there is."

"Mmm." Seya nods, and puffs on her pipe, and goes back to writing.

_I took the houndmaster’s gloves and bracers as payment for the trouble, sold them after returning to Stormwind, and included that selling price in the amount deposited to the requested account._

_From there it was simple enough to make my way through the armory (minimal cash, silk to be auctioned), gallery (minimal cash, silk to be auctioned), and atheneum to the library where the target was making a strong effort to burn everything to the ground. I dispatched him, took his belt and gloves as payment, retrieved the codex and accepted payment for that, and backtracked to execute the armsmaster. He hadn’t been in my path on my way to the target, but once my primary objective was completed, I saw no reason to leave him alive. I took his axe and locket as payment, sold them in Stormwind, and deposited the amount into the requested account._

_Regarding the auction of silk retrieved from the monastery, the market was flooded when I returned, so I plan to auction it at a slightly later date in hopes of a better price and will deposit the earnings at that time. I found no other armor, weapons, or goods worth auctioning._

_This ends my report. Please let me know of any questions or concerns._

Seya sits back in her chair reads over the report as the ink dries. Davey is already dozing again. She takes another bite of the cheese his wife made from the milk of the vengeful goat, and washes it down with a swallow of Port from the bottle in her knapsack.

She isn’t, by nature, one to take on many opponents at once. She stalks her victims from the shadows, finds them alone and far from help, and takes them by surprise, one by one. Find a Horde encampment in the darkness before dawn, then kill the guards and slit the throats of the sleeping soldiers — four of every five. Leave a bloody hand-print over the hearts of the survivors. Let them share this tale of horror with each other, and in sharing, let it grow. Let it creep through the ranks of their enemies, so they might never know, upon sleeping, if they’ll wake surrounded by death, or if they’ll wake at all.

But it had been clear after her first exploration of the monastery that this strategy would not be enough to get her through the place successfully, so when Ottavia had chastised her over her injury, reminding her how useless she would be to the Outlaws if she were dead or laid up for weeks, she had assumed that meant she should ask for help when she went after this “Flameweaver” person. Someone to keep the enemy busy so she could cut them down from behind, someone to heal them both if they needed it.

After Araane’s clarification, she had put all else aside in order to ready herself for this job, but even so, fighting the entire squad of those archery trainees had nearly been her end. She’d had to use every trick — the first time, just to escape them. Only on her second attempt had she succeeded, and she wasn’t sure how much of that was due to luck. It had been exhilarating and terrifying, and she isn’t sure if she would relish the chance to do it again or not.

But regardless, the fact is that she has succeeded. By the skin of her teeth once or twice, but succeeded. All that’s left is to turn in her report and wait to see if she’s accepted.

The ink is dry at last, vanished into the parchment as if it had never been there. Only when held over the fire will it return. Seya rolls the report up and slips it into the scroll case, and tucks it into the side pocket of her leather leggings, then writes a quick, second note, scribbled in the ancient, nameless language that her Sentinel commander had taught her.

_All is well here. Have had recent successes against the Scarlet Crusade. Stormwind continues to send reinforcements to Pandaria; SI:7 has a presence there, though I am uncertain how large of one.  Rumor is that Garosh intends to claim the entire continent for the Horde, and his actions give truth to that rumor; some Pandarens are apparently siding with Garosh, though for what reason I know not, but many are with the Alliance, and many more simply wish all the strangers to leave. Nothing indicates that Garosh intends to leave Kalimdor, however, so the war now has gained a front but we are all still in jeopardy. Recommend sending Shadow Wardens to Pandaria if they can be spared and if this has not already been done._

_But be aware of a new threat that we will carry with us. The land there hears our fears and our anger and brings forth a creature they call “sha” in response to it. It is deadly. Our own hatred may be as fearsome an enemy as we have faced in some time._

When the ink is dry on this note, she rolls it small and tight and slips it into a second case, then clucks at Ash until he stretches his wings and gives her his leg. She attaches the miniature scroll case, then carries him out into the night. This message won’t be entrusted to any stranger, however fleet-footed the message carriers of the Alliance are. She releases Ash and watches him beat his wings skyward into the rising moon.


End file.
